Before the still of night
This echo
Of day as accelerant,
Bonfire without vanity
Fall is falling soft,
Summer still clawing back
And steps seem to pace with shadows –
Past each house
You were my last hope
Tossed into tendrils of smoke
A rose given,
Gripped by stalk of thorns
Pulled quickly back…
Stigmata of the abandoned
No one is to blame
When blue moon fades
Behind cloud of tears,
My veiled doubt
Answers to lies,
Lies to question
The gravity of despair shouldered
This weight unbearable
Colored leaves
That hide my dreams.
-
Author:
Jon Nakapalau (
Offline) - Published: April 14th, 2025 19:26
- Comment from author about the poem: With utmost respect.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments3
Fascinating. Guess she's a favorite of the modern artists, and this pretty number to the cause is gorgeously rendered with exquisite imagery and a fitly haunting poignancy. Thank you for sharing.
Very kind - thank you!
You're welcome!
Some fascinating lines in this poem very nice
Thanks so much!
An interesting and enjoyable write, with some wonderful lines
Much thanks!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.